I woke up to a strange and mildly alarming sight.

Pete was standing beside the bed, his apparition casting a faint bluish-white glow over my side of the room.

When I'd seen him in the 'Veil,' he'd looked almost solid, practically indistinguishable from a real person. Well, besides the black-hole eyes.

Now, it was very clear that he was a ghost. I could see through him, and he flickered now and then, blinking in and out of existence like an interrupted projection.

"Pete!" I whispered, sitting up. The fancy watch-gadget Ben had bought me last Christmas told me it was just after 3 in the morning, and Ben himself was snoring softly at my side.

Pete raised a long, pale finger to his thin lips and then gestured for me to follow him.

I jumped up and obeyed, following his spectral glow from the bedroom, down the hall, and then all the way downstairs to the museum.

Pete stopped beside the pedestal displaying the bowling ball to which his spirit was bound, and stroked the green marbled surface of the old sphere with ghostly fingers.

"Pete!" I whispered again. "I can see you!"

I was so excited, I felt tempted to give him a hug, but I wasn't sure he was substantial enough for that.

He showed me his dentist's nightmare of a smile. "Yes, I know."

"Why haven't I seen you since you, er, helped me?" I asked. "Were you on vacation? Can you leave the house, for that matter? Where do you go?"

He held up his hand and I fell silent, waiting for him to speak.

"I have been here," he said. "Although it is far easier to reveal myself to one with a gift such as yours, it still requires energy. Arranging our first...meeting...took quite a bit, and I've been recharging since."

"Oh. Is that like sleeping for you? Or are you aware all the time? I think I would miss sleeping," I added. "What do you miss, Pete?"

A curious expression crossed his gaunt features, and I realized that I might have asked an insensitive question.

"Oh gosh, sorry. I guess you miss everything, huh?"

"Not everything," he said, and chuckled.

I always thought 'chuckle' was the creepiest word for a laugh, and Pete reinforced my belief. His sounded like a bunch of small stones covered in slime being gently rattled around in a cup.

"But, to business, before my energy is gone once more. I witness all things in this house, friend Matt."

"Oh," I said. "Er...all things?"

He lifted a thin, spectral shoulder. "If I choose. Most of the...doings...of the living do not interest me, but occasionally, I find it useful to...observe. For example, the unfortunate conversation you overheard."

"Oh. That."

I'd been trying not to think about it, not to hear Ben's voice on repeat in my head.

"You did not hear all that there was to hear," Pete went on, as though reading my mind.

"I heard enough," I said.

Pete shook his head. "The whole truth is more than you know."

Great. Ben and his dad had probably agreed on the whole laundry list of my faults. If only I'd stuck around for that.

"For the sake of your happiness, you should discover it," he pressed.

I sighed. "I don't know, Pete. Espionage isn't really my strong suit."

He frowned, beginning to flicker more often now as his energy grew more depleted. "I...do not mean that you should spy on your lover. A...more direct method, perhaps..."

"Like what?"

"Ask him," he said laconically, and shrugged; then, with a final flicker, he was gone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Why can't you just ask him?" my friend, Chris, asked as I leaned over the counter of the strange little shop he'd taken over from his boyfriend Jeremy's dead father.

Chris had remodeled and renamed Julien Horne's old store, but its purpose remained the same. Bell Witch Books  sold, well, books. And other things.

Things for witches, as the name implied.

I studied the display of ritual knives—athames—beneath the glass topped counter, and considered my answer.

"Because I can't trust him to tell the truth," I said.

"But...I thought you told me Ben was, like, honest to a fault?" Chris countered.

He turned a delicate little bowl over in his strong, brown-skinned hands as he spoke, studying the mark on the bottom.

Chris was younger than me, but he was already the high priest of a coven. He'd taken that over from his boyfriend's father, too, and while not as skilled in magick as some of the others in the group, he had other qualities that made him a good leader.

He was loyal, kind-hearted, and optimistic, and he'd worked hard to reorganize the group and take it in a positive direction. He believed in using magick for good, and always made sure to remind us to be careful of our intentions, and warned us against seeing the art as a short-cut to solving personal problems.

Which is probably why he's frowning on my idea of using a truth spell on Ben.

I bite my lip. I have to phrase this right, or Chris will refuse to sell me the little book I'd picked out from his collection.

"He is...usually. Recently, though, it seems like we're having trouble understanding each other—almost like we're speaking different languages. I just want to smooth things out between us. You know, clear the cobwebs." I wave a hand to demonstrate.

Chris squints at me, little creases appearing at the corners of his dark eyes. "You know when you do magick, Matt, you got to be careful and clear. Magick works, but if you're not careful it will work in ways that surprise you. It's not something to call on casually."

"I know," I said. "This isn't casual, Chris, it's serious."

He shook his head. "Look, Matt. If you can't just ask Ben what's up with him and believe what he tells you, then..." he sighed. "I'm no expert, to be honest, but I don't know if that's something a little bit of magick can solve."

He wrapped the bowl up in brown paper and put it in the bag along with the other items I'd purchased.

"I'll tell you what," he said, giving me a wink. "Talk to Annabel. If she thinks it's okay, I'll sell you the book."

I slumped. Annabel—high priestess to his high priest, and my mentor—was a hard-assed bitch when it came to fooling around with magick. I might as well ask an airline pilot if it was okay for me to try my hand at the controls for a bit.

At least in my experience, they always say no.

I gazed sadly at the little book that Chris had set behind the counter, and prepared to take my approved purchases and depart, when the phone in the store's back room jangled loudly, and Chris excused himself to answer it.

I turned to go, but then a slight movement in the shadows of the back corner caught my eye, and Chris's lover, Jeremy materialized from the darkness where he'd been lurking.

Like Ari's husband and father-in-law, Jeremy was a vampire, though still a fledgling. He must've been practicing his vampire lurking skills, because I hadn't noticed him before.

"I won't tell if you won't," he said, giving me a sharp-toothed grin and slipping his phone back inside his pocket. He glanced at the book, and then back at me.

Jeremy had a knack for getting into trouble. Only last month, Volkir had had to rescue him after he'd pissed off a pack of werewolves up north somewhere. He was like that kid at school who makes you feel like you're already in trouble just for hanging out with them. It was a mystery how he and Chris got along at all, but that's love for you, I guess.

Even though Jeremy was technically the store's co-owner, the thought of taking the book without Chris's approval made me feel itchy all over, and I knew it was a bad idea, but...

I really wanted that book.

I took out a twenty and set it on the counter. It was more than the price on the cover.

"You won't tell?" I asked.

"Scout's honor." He grinned even wider and showed off his fangs. Sauntering forward, he slipped the twenty into the till, took the bag from my unresisting hands, slid the book inside, and handed it back. "Good luck," he said with a wink.

He made it too easy for me.

I took the bag, returned his...smile...and made my escape.